


Totem God Tales

by RandomGuygoesviral



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Tales From The SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Big Brother Foolish, Canonical Character Death, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, One Shot Collection, Resurrection, Short, foolish is so cool guys- FOOLISH IS SO COOL PLEASE, idk how to tag this ill be real honest, its foolish time baybe, more characters tba - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-28 14:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomGuygoesviral/pseuds/RandomGuygoesviral
Summary: A bunch of requests for Foolish-centered fics over on my mcytblr (@the-phantom-ender, which you should totally go follow)! Some are shorter than others. All of these are posted first on tumblr!(Requests are currently closed!)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	1. Phil and Foolish

Foolish, at this point in his existence, was… more than aware of people evading death. That was part of his job description, quite frankly. The tides ebbed and flowed, storms came and passed, time trudged on, and people- traditionally- died. Eventually, that was. But, just as there were exceptions to every rule, there were exceptions to that. Which he commended, honestly! If someone survived well enough to be regarded as a pseudo-immortal, they had his respect!

He’d met many people like this, but no one was quite as interesting as a certain “Angel of Death.”

“Philza Minecraft!” The god chuckled, looking at the man who’d walked into his temple,” To what do I owe you the pleasure?” 

Phil rolled his eyes, approaching Foolish with a good natured smirk. Despite his natural imposing height of well above twenty foot, he’d decided to take a less frightening appearance for much of his time in this place. Eight foot was still quite impressive, but more… manageable. This note was important, as Phil hit the totem’s shoulder with his cane softly. 

“What, can a guy not go out to see an old mate?”

Foolish raised an eyebrow, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly,” I mean- you _can_ , but why not get ahold of me in Snowchester or something? It’d save you the heat of the Nether Realm.” 

“I’m not bothered by that place anymore. One of the folks I spend pretty much all of my time with is a Piglin, so.” He shrugged nonchalantly, Foolish couldn’t help but internally note the damaged wings moving with the motion,” Besides, I ‘spose I do owe some formality to the Totem God of Death and Undying, right?” Phil accented this title with a kneeling bow, eyes dipping under the brim of his hat.

This was the first time his proper title had been used by someone other than himself in his time in this place. The familiar buzz of respect sent a shockwave through his body. Energy crawled through him like he’d just had caffeine kick in. He grunted softly in acknowledgement, embarrassed by the swell in pride.

Of course, this led to a soft laughing fit from Phil, grinning up at Foolish. Mortal as his body may have been, this was not the first time the winged man had interacted with gods, much less Foolish himself. Proper titles were an important thing, they carried significant amounts of power. Names in and of themselves were powerful, this is why codenames were so important in secretive operations. That was also something Phil was very aware of. 

“Ohhhhh, mate! You should have seen your face!” He chuckled, bringing himself back up into a standing position,” Your eyes did the thing where they glow and shit! Fuckin’ priceless, dude.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Very funny from the Angel of Death. You were much more respectful a few centuries ago.” 

“I’m an old man, now, I’m a little more of a loose cannon.” 

“So I’ve noticed,” Foolish hummed,” Really, though. There must be more of a reason for your visit than poking fun at me.”

Phil sighed, a much more somber look crossing over his face. Catching onto the fact that this would likely be a tale to tell, Foolish led him off to the interior of the two-headed-snake. A moment of silence passed as the two of them sat down at a small table. It was moments like these where the age of the old beings wore at them. Moments of contemplative silence. So relatively small in contrast to the lifespan of someone who evaded death. 

“I… would like to start off by saying thank you for the- you know. The books you gave me way back when?”


	2. Ranbob and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long after the time of the SMP, Foolish hears his ocean weep for the loss of someone under her care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the thing that got me to watch The Lost City of Mizu all the way through. I understand why people like the Dream Kinnie now. This is the first time I've ever written him, forgive me if he's OOC.

To every power, there was a weakness. Every ability had a drawback. This was the nature of existence, a law of the universe. An action had an equal and opposite reaction, this was just how the world worked. And Foolish was as bound to the rules of the universe as any mortal man.

The acute awareness at death had long since been a thing he’d tuned out. Being a deity of the living and the dead, sensing every fallen existence was overwhelming, at one time. But eventually it had dulled into background noise. As familiar as breath. There were times, however, where a particularly tragic or abrupt death caught him off guard.

Long after the land of the Dream SMP was ancient history, regarded as folk tales and mythology, he felt this painful tug. There was a whisper, in the edges of his mind. The ocean itself seemed to be mourning, death and tragedy occurring under her blanket of darkness. His oceans did not cry out often, it was always oddly unsettling when they did. Perhaps a sailor had been caught in a storm and the waves regretted aiding in their passing?

For whatever reason, be it idiocy or curiosity, Foolish decided to check on things. To follow his ocean’s call to where she mourned. This led him to a vast underwater city. Now, of course, the god didn’t approach this place as himself. Instead, he shifted his appearance into that of a small catshark. Still a dangerous animal in a sense, but small and unassuming. Sharks were… his thing, alright? 

The city was alight with fire, water flooded into a room with a burning tree. Dark ash and smoke stained the sea black. Foolish just hardly noticed the body of a man among the wreckage. His heart was heavy. Certainly, the glass dome would shatter under the water pressure and send shards into the water, polluting and harming the environment. Once again, his heart ached for his ocean.

Gathering himself, he cast out his mind, sensing one living being in the entirety of the city. Abruptly, he shifted his appearance back into that of his own (albeit small enough to fit the halls of the city), appearing outside the ruined dome. He scanned the area sadly, drawing his attention to the opposite end of the hall. A man emerged, clearly startled by the presence of another. A bloodstained sword hung at his side. Foolish understood what this meant.

“Ah! Greetings!” The man spoke, a false sense of friendliness in his tone as he wiped the blade clean on his suit,” What brings you to Mizu? Do you, too, have an interest in the history of the great Dream SMP?”

Right. So this was one of  _ those _ people, huh? Not that Foolish had anything wrong with historians, of course! It was just… funny to see people tell tales of people he’d known. Especially if they were completely off base. And considering the familiar half toned appearance of the man before him, there was a decent chance he was. 

“Uh… something like that, yeah.” 

A smile grew on the man's face, Foolish noting the similarity to another smile he knew. “Right! Well then, my name is Ranbob. I am a descendant of the great and wise historian Ranboo! You’ll have to forgive me, I was not… expecting guests.” 

It took all the will he had for the god to not burst into laughter. The great historian Ranboo, eh? So that’s what history decided he became. That was a more flattering title than some past acquaintances of his had gotten, to be fair. 

“Foolish. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ranbob of Mizu.” A proper title. Foolish extended an arm for a handshake, emerald eyes sharp and dangerous. 

The handshake was taken, a handkerchief in between them. Ranbob’s eyes seemed cold. There was the same expression he’d seen in so many others in those eyes. A man who had given away his humanity in pursuit of a goal. The willingness to kill for their own gain. Still… this man was a descendant of Ranboo. There was still the clear haze of forgetfulness in his eyes. A trait that never went away, it seemed. 

“...Likewise.” a beat “Would you like a tour?” 

“If you'd like to give one.” 

Foolish stayed silent as he was brought between rooms. He knew this was a set up. He could tell that the person leading him was dangerous. Still, despite this, there was an odd charm to him. He’d learned, at this point, to appreciate the beauty in death. Sometimes, that was all you could do in the face of tragedy. By gods had Foolish seen enough tragedy to have a bit of beauty. 

He knew he was nearing the end of this encounter as Ranbob mentioned idols. Right, yes. Time had a tendency to turn normal people into those, putting them on a pedestal. Foolish had the excuse of being an old, old god. Even by the time that he’d met those of the Dream SMP, he was practically unheard of. At least it meant that he wasn’t recognized right away. Though… his temple was still standing. 

“Everyone in this place has their idols,” Ranbob hummed, leading him into a room that was immediately a red flag,” Would you like to know mine?”

Neon green.

“Who might that be, kid?”

“Dream! The god of the server! I aim to follow in his footsteps, to do as he did!” 

“You serve a false prophet, Ranbob.” 

“... What? No, no, don’t you say something like that. I know the history, my family wrote it!” The man gritted his teeth, expression souring,” I know what I know! And one thing I know for certain is that  _ no one _ leaves Mizu alive!” 

And all at once, he charged. Foolish made no effort to deflect him, of course. His eyes simply glinted as the blade glanced off of his body- clearly making no dent in him. A green hue glimmered around him and his face fell. Ranbob hadn’t let him reason, it was a shame, honestly. He seemed to be a smart man.

“Dream is no god,” Foolish hummed, easily disarming Ranbob, who was promptly scooped up into a bear hug restraint,” He was a foolish mortal man with one hell of a god complex, though. You could stand to learn the lesson he never did. Cruelty is learned, life and death aren’t unkind, history is always doomed to repeat.”   
“Let me go!” Ranbob thrashed in his iron grip, ears tilted down,” Let go of me! You know nothing!  **_Nothing_ ** I say!”

“The totem knows nothing, eh?”   
“N-no! The totem god isn’t- real! That was a myth even in the time of the SMP!”   
Foolish squeezed the man harder, not quite hard enough to hurt. Ranbob’s goggles fell over his eyes as he tossed his head around uselessly. His heart hammered hard enough that the god could feel it in his grasp. This man was a murderer, sure, but Foolish didn’t like scaring others.

“Ranbob. If you’re looking for a god, I’m your best bet. Dream was a kid with a complex and, well, XD doesn’t exactly deal in mortal affairs unless someone’s breaking a rule. Or you’re GeorgeNotFound, but George is long dead at this point. If you want someone to teach you history, I have much scripture in my temple. If you’d like me to teach you, I can.” 

“Wh- huh?”

“You like history, right? Who’s a better source than someone who lived it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again! Kudos and comments are appreciated! I put a lot of time into these silly little fics, you know?


	3. Ghostbur and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, a god builds a house for two kids and their Zombie Piglin son. Such is life in the Dream SMP, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in Snowchester exclusively so I could write Foolish being kinda goofy. That's it, that's literally the only reason. Also it makes more sense for Ghostbur to be there.

Foolish knew of Ghostbur. He’d never met the man alive, and there was some doubt in his mind that Ghostbur had ever been alive. The stories he’d heard about Wilbur were much different than the ones he’d heard about the specter. Ghosts, under the category of undead in a sense, were technically under his domain. But he tried not to pry, especially considering how few there were in this place. 

He was working on the Mansion for Tubbo and Ranboo (good kids, both of them). It had proven to be a much more time intensive project than he’d initially thought, but he wasn’t one to complain. This place was weird, you know? Sometimes two teens commissioned a god to build them a home and that wasn’t a strange request. At least it gave him reason to go finding things for… personal projects. 

Dusk was settling, twilight hardly passed. The descent into night was a beautiful one, it was sure to be a lovely night. The snowy area was crisp but not biting. Working in a not entirely insulated place would probably overwhelm a mortal man, but Foolish liked to consider himself a little better equipped. 

… Okay that was a lie. He normally operated in the desert, even if cold temperatures weren’t new to him. He was cold, okay? He was cold.

Still, he was working. Tubbo or Ranboo had checked on the progress of the building often, and many others had come to marvel at it. He wasn’t expecting a ghostly hum of awe from somewhere behind him. In a fluid motion, Foolish whipped around, eyes wide. His eyes went wide for a moment before his attention landed on the translucent grey figure in the building, hovering just above the ground. 

“Oh! Hello there!” He said quickly, rushing to regain his composure,” You must be Ghostbur! Tubbo’s told me about you! Foolish, it’s good to meet you!” 

Ghostbur’s expression shifted, growing excited as awestruck,” Oh oh! Yes, I am! It’s good to meet you! So you’re the one building the home for the boys and their do- son?”

“I sure am.” 

“It’s very pretty,” the ghost whispered, gliding over to the god, passing through the solid ground of stairs slightly,” You’re very good at your job.”

“Aw! Thank you very much!” 

People interrupting his building usually lead to some sort of unusual hijinx or an impromptu adventure. This expectation led to Foolish idling around for a moment, waiting to see if Ghostbur would make any move to drag him off somewhere. When he made no move to do so, the totem found himself hesitantly backing off to go continue working on the interior. He felt the same general unease as he traditionally did facing ghosts, but a part of him was also well aware of the potentially dangerous nature of this one. 

Still… he seemed harmless enough. All Ghostbur seemed to be doing was tailing him like a lost puppy dog, humming and hawing at the simple tasks he was doing. It almost seemed mocking, but the lack of malice in the ghost’s eyes seemed to say otherwise. Foolish wasn’t exactly the best with social cues, however, so maybe there was more than met the eye. Don’t get him wrong- he was good at reading people- he just wasn’t always 100% accurate all of the time.

The near silent nature of the interaction continued for a while. Of course, it wasn’t the first time someone had sat and watched him work. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But he traditionally got a little conversation out of it, if a little awkward. Sometimes he even got help- that one wasn’t so often, though.

“So…” Foolish started,” You’re a ghost, eh?”

“Oh! Yes, I am.”

“Are you  **_the_ ** ghost of Wilbur, or?...”

“I, er,” Ghostbur faltered, expression hardening,” I am… not Alivebur, no. Not exactly.” 

“Ah! Interesting, very interesting!” His focus went back to building for a beat, thinking about that response. 

Death was… a complicated thing. Perhaps Ghostbur was an entirely separate entity from “Wilbur Soot” altogether. Like how a phantom (those pesky things) could take on the name of another. Or maybe he was a split off from the original man in death, soul so troubled that it broke off into two parts. Maybe it was a simple answer, maybe it was more complicated. 

He’d seen stranger ways people had reacted to death. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are nice. I... crave validation jskdhkdfg. I hope you enjoyed this!!


	4. Techno and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always tedious to go finding resources. Traversing the Nether Realm for gold is annoying, especially alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm not great at writing Techno. I had fun with this, though! This is officially the last request I've already written before crossposting here.

Gold was an important resource to Foolish. He used it in just about everything he did ever. This led to him spending a downright unreasonable time in the Nether. Nether gold might not have had quite the same yield as Overworld gold did, but it was much more common. And with a good enough pickaxe, it was almost the same- just without the need for smelting. Which was a pretty good tradeoff in his opinion. 

This was another of his Nether Realm excursions, and he’d managed to get about… not enough gold out of it. Four blocks, seven ingots, and three nuggets was his current total. Granted, he hadn’t been here for long, but doing nothing but digging around and dodging Ghasts got… tedious, to say the least. He’d probably have more gold if not for Piglins chasing him down! He wasn’t just gonna kill every living thing he saw, so he often ended up dumping some of his hard earned gold on the ground to get them off his tail.

Being a god and understanding many languages lead to a vague understanding of Piglish. Their insults were… certainly unorthodox. He’d expect nothing else of a species that lived in warrior packs. They were hunter gatherers and barterers, he knew how fierce they could be. Foolish was many things, but he’d have to be a moron to get on the bad side of the local Piglin population. 

He’d managed to find a pretty decent vein of gold many blocks out from the Nether Hub. It was enough to shape into easily twelve ingots, which brought him to six blocks. Still not nearly enough, but it was the best yield he’d had so far.

Foolish clicked onto chatter from not far from him and perked up. It was English, for sure. Or at the very least Common. He tilted his head, patting a foot on the ground gently. Who was this? A deeper voice, gruff, notably lacking a British accent. It couldn’t be Ranboo, he had way too much anxiety. So…

Right! The feared fighter, Technoblade. Techno was more than just that, he was sure, but Foolish had yet to get to know the man. He wouldn’t judge the character of the warrior without getting to know the guy. 

“Hey!!” He spoke up, rounding a corner to find the robed man,” Technoblade! How are you doing?”

Techno, to his credit, didn’t visibly jump out of his skin at the sudden shout of the god. He did let out a characteristic shout of  **_“HEH?!”_ ** at the noise, however. His ears flicked and his face scrunched, more confused than aggressive. Everyone had tells when it came to what they were feeling, and Foolish had clearly caught him off guard. This was more a defensive measure than it was threatening. 

The orange glow of lava lit up Techno’s expression, his axe glinted dangerously, runes scaling it shimmering. “What do you want, Foolish?” 

“Uh… I was just gonna say hi, but…” He hesitated, questioning if he was really planning to do this. “I  _ could _ use a little help gathering resources for the Temple of U- my summer home!... If you’d be willing, of course.” 

“Right. And why exactly would I do that?” 

Think think think. “I’ll give you half the yield of gold. The more we gather, the more you earn. I already have six blocks, so even if you gather at the same rate as me, you’ll gain something!” Foolish you  **_idiot_ ** . 

Still… Techno seemed enticed by the deal. The god didn’t realize it fully at the time, but part of the reason for this might have been that he was, in fact, a Piglin. It was almost insulting to try to convince a Piglin to do something the way that Foolish unintentionally had, but the lack of meaning was enough to keep the gesture from souring. 

“Eh, why not. It’s been a while since I’ve sat back and done some serious grindin, anyways. It’s no potato farmin, but it might be a good way to waste some time. Wasn’t doing anything important, anyways.” 

Foolish breathed a sigh of relief. Good! That was very good. Even if he’d, inevitably, get less gold than he’d bargained for, turning it into a friendly competition of sorts beat doing it alone. Besides, maybe the two of them could share stories. He had a feeling that Techno had plenty of interesting stories to tell.

It turned out he was right, too. They swapped tales back and forth, some of personal adventures, some of others. The two of them found a common ground in their shared interest for mythology. Of course, Techno was more interested in Greek mythos and Foolish in Egyptian, but it was enough interest to get them talking. 

In the end, they made it out with an even split of forty blocks each. The slight loss on his end was made up for by good company, Foolish decided. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback fuels my writing. Comments and Kudos are very nice and let me know you enjoy what I do!


	5. Dream and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hadn't expected to be let into the prison, much less see things as such a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a c!Dream apologist. But I am a c!Dream sympathizer. I don’t excuse his actions but I acknowledge that he is traumatized and hurting. I debated on if I wanted to write a prison visit or not, but I had an idea that stuck.  
> A quick note to the fact that this is more graphic than the others so far! It contains the described aftermath of torture and gore so! Be careful! 
> 
> Let me restate:   
> TW: Depictions of torture and gore

He did not go to the prison expecting to be let in. Foolish had fully expected Sam to entirely decline him. He expected to approach the warden, ask to be let into the prison, and immediately be told no. As far as he knew, the prison wasn’t allowing visitors. When a prisoner kills a man within the walls of the prison, they’re traditionally refused visitation rights. 

Much to his surprise… this was not what happened. He’d walked up to Sam, asked the question, and watched Sam’s eyes grow weary. Not a word more was shared between them as Foolish was led to the entrance of Pandora's Vault. No words were spoken between either of them other than direction and confirmation. 

This, admittedly, made the totem god a bit nervous. The expression Sam wore was not one of a hardened prison warden, but instead of someone who expected the worst. Foolish knew he was powerful, but he meant no harm. Sam knew this, he did, he’d told him just that. Still… the warden was scared of him. He’d seen divine intervention. Maybe he didn’t believe that Foolish was peaceful. 

He shook his head, reciting what was asked of him and signing his name in books, as required. Or, well, he signed “Foolish”. While it would have been more proper to sign his formal name, a god sharing their title was much more dangerous in text than it was verbally- and he was even hesitant to say it aloud. Everyone here knew him by the name, it was tied to him in this place, so there should be no issue with that. 

The first and only break from the call and response came when Foolish was standing on the platform before the lava lowered. Sam cleared his throat, getting his attention. His eyes were stormy despite a mostly blank expression. And then he passed the god his sword.  _ Warden’s Will _ glinted, runes flicking in the light and displaying how utterly dangerous it was. Foolish was confused. Wasn’t the whole point to not have weapons in the cell? Nothing the prisoner could use to escape? 

“Wh-”

“If you’re here, I’m sure there’s a reason that will be aided by this weapon.”

**“No.”** Foolish said sternly, eyes narrowed,” I will go into the cell  _ empty handed _ , as intended. He cannot kill me in a way that matters, I will be  **_fine_ ** . Lower the lava, warden. Keep your blade.” 

He was shocked at his own bite. The god of Undying was not a violent man. In many ways, he was a pacifist. He had not and would not kill, maim, or otherwise permanently harm another person in this place. Much less the man in that cell. 

“Very well.” 

And so the lava lowered. 

“Don’t forget to move with the platform.” 

Foolish moved with the platform. The bubbling and overwhelmingly bright lava beneath him and to his sides was scorching. His golden form didn’t react to high temperatures like other golds might, but he was certainly very glad he’d left the golden blocks on him in storage. They would not be as lucky as the god in the heat. 

The move between behind and forwards seemed to take an eternity. And he certainly knew what eternity felt like. His heart drummed steadily in his chest. Part of him was… worried about this. Puffy had convinced him to go, just in case. If nothing else but for closure, if nothing more than for acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as he stepped off the platform and to the other side.

…

_ It was not this. _

He was still kept from direct entry as the lava closed behind him. How long it’d last, he was unsure. What he noticed immediately, though, was the fact that there was no real reaction from the man in the prison. In fact, he seemed to be… cowering. Curled up in a corner, breath quick. 

The room smelled of blood. Foolish had expected this, from Tommy’s death. Blood was difficult to get out of obsidian. The only issue with that was, well, the fact that it smelled much too fresh to be from Tommy’s death. 

The barrier keeping him from entering the cell lowered and he took a step inside.

“You’re not…” the voice was weak and strained, maybe from lack of use, maybe from shouting,” You’re not allowed to come twice in the same day. That was- that was the one rule, Quacki…”

Dream’s voice died in his throat as he turned. An emerald eye grew wide behind a ruined mask, from terror and a flash of relief and then terror but  _ worse _ all at once. Foolish made no effort to approach the man for fear of scaring him worse. 

Torture. As a god, he was more than familiar with watching it, seeing it’s effects. That did nothing to keep him from feeling ill. He was not a violent man. Seeing the cruel effects of torment made this stance all the more firm. 

“Dream…” He started, voice softer than he knew it could be, and then to himself,” Is this why Sam tried to give me his sword? Did he expect me to mutilate a man who has no way to defend himself?” 

The prisoner’s body stiffened and his eyes rapidly scanned Foolish’s body. “The- the sword? You don’t- don’t come any closer! Don’t come an- don’t get closer!” 

Foolish backed up as much as he could, back firmly against a wall. He raised his arms in surrender and made sure to not make direct eye contact with Dream. He’d have to make a conscious effort not to move too much or too quickly, it seemed. Which was easier said than done for a shark. 

“I have no weapons on me. I refused the warden’s blade. I am here to speak to you.” A beat,” Papa Puffy wanted to… Captain Puffy says hi.”    
“I thought she disowned me.” 

“She… she did.” 

“Then- then why-” Dream broke into a fit of coughs, sputtering weakly into his arm. He drew his mouth away and a trail of blood followed. Internal bleeding? 

“I came here because fate willed it… She wasn’t entirely wrong to call us brothers, you know. The Protector and I are brothers in essence. And you are him, in a sense. A reincarnation of a being that isn’t dead.” Foolish sighed,” You’re no god, I hope you know that. But you are kin with gods.” 

“Why are you telling me this.” 

“You’re… the treatment you’re getting in this place has escalated. People plot to kill you. Do you have any idea how many want you dead?” -Dream scoffed at this- “They want knowledge from you. Can you provide them it?”

A beat.

“The Revive Book was not your property. Nor was it Schlatt’s. Misusing it will have consequences, Swan.” 

“That isn’t-”

“It’s better than the ugly duckling.” 

Foolish didn’t process that Dream had gotten closer to him until he was tugging at the god’s pant leg. The closer look at him showed how worse for wear the man was. Blood matted his hair, the eye hidden behind his mask was black and swollen, his lip was busted. He could tell by the way he breathed that he had at least one broken rib. All in all Dream looked… Pitiful. 

“Don’t let them kill me. I- don’t let th-”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“ **_Please_ ** ,” he begged, collapsing in front of the deity. Foolish’s heart twisted in his chest. 

He sunk to the ground and ran a hand down the prisoner’s back. He couldn’t do much, but he could prevent death from a punctured lung. As his hand moved, he made as much a miracle as he could. A pained gasp from Dream told him that the rib had been moved back into place. Foolish brought his hand back up, healing the swollen eye and clearing some blood from the man’s hair. The heaviness of exhaustion loomed over him.

“I can’t promise to protect you forever. You are mortal, you will die one day. But today, I can make it so you can rest easier.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another one that was longer than I'd meant for it to be. I rushed the ending a little because I'm going somewhere soon sdhkfkdjsfdh  
> But as always! If you enjoyed! Kudos and comments let me know that!


	6. Karl and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foolish was very good at accidentally stumbling into situations that could get him in trouble that were laughably easy to avoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'd probably be better if one of my wrists hadn't tried to give up on me half way through! I guess this is what I get for doing pretty much nothing but writing all day. But I'm determined to get the last request in my inbox currently done by the end of the day! Determined I say!

Sometimes, Foolish got himself into situations that could have easily been avoided. Like falling into a pit he could have noticed with a bit more vigilant, or walking face first into a wall. Usually, these situations are harmless. At least to an extent. The only one in harm's way because he does something stupid is him.

He mined into a place he should not have mined into. Of course, he knew he was relatively near the Kinoko Kingdom. He saw the mushroom in front of him and decided, in an uncharacteristic moment of clarity, to not bust through it! Foolish was a curious man, but he’d helped out with some of the building there. And if he didn’t know about a place it was for a reason! No snooping, not this time! 

… Someone was talking. He took a deep breath, hoping that he hadn’t been heard. This was the voice of Karl, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but he sounded utterly  _ exhausted _ . Not in the fun delirious way, either. Just purely tired. Part of his mind yelled at him for snooping after he just decided he wouldn’t. Part of him didn’t care.

It wasn’t like he’d caught much of it! Only bits and pieces. Something about “not being able to sustain this” and how he “couldn't lose himself”. That was enough for Foolish to understand a part of the picture, at least. He stayed there a while longer, waiting for it to seem as though Karl had left. He placed a few blocks back down before slipping back off and deciding to mine a different direction. Maybe Karl didn’t need to know he was there.

It was a little later before he saw Karl again. It didn’t take the eyes of a god to know that something was… off. He seemed just a little shorter than Foolish last remembered, and he could have sworn that hoodie was different, too. Maybe he was just slouching, though, and it made plenty of sense to have a different hoodie! The bags under the man’s eyes told a story of their own, though. Everything else could be written away as a simple change, but dark circles like that didn’t just appear for no reason. 

Internally, he decided he was absolutely  **_not_ ** going to pry! Instead, he opted to make it his goal to be a friendly face! Karl didn’t seem like he was doing anything important, so he might appreciate some company. While Foolish wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, he could give others some kindness. 

So he trotted over to the hoodie-clad man, smiling,” Hey Karl!” 

Karl jumped back, shock registering in his expression with a yelp,” What the honk?! I- gah- heeeey Foolish!”

“Heeeeey.”

“So. So! What’s up?”

Small talk. Foolish was incredibly, just.. Awfully bad at small talk! He rubbed the back of his neck with a shark-toothed smile. Just… get through small talk as quick as you can Foolish. No big deal.

“I’m good, I’m very… cool.” Nice one. “I, uh, just came from Snowchester after finishing some work over there for the day. You know how it be, the grind never stops and all that!”

“Aren’t you a god? How haven’t you just… you know auto finished stuff like that?” 

“I may be a god but I am a respectable man! Also… breaking rules would get me in as much trouble as anyone else. I feel like doing that’d be cheating, you know?” Foolish laughed awkwardly, silently cheering as Karl laughed along. There was a little more light in his eyes- this was going good! 

“Okay, okay yeah. Good point!”

The two men walked for a while, telling jokes back and forth for a while. By the time they’d reached the community Nether portal, Karl was practically skipping. Foolish was taking that as an absolute win. They entered the portal together before soon parting ways.

Maybe it’d be a good idea to keep an eye on Karl. There was something off about his presence. There was more to him then met the eye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much much shorter than I wanted but I hope you enjoyed! Comments and Kudos and stuff, you know the drill.


	7. Jack and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the temple of undying they went. Sometimes, a good way to get a point across was sharing a little life advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Two things have made this fic a struggle. 1: my arthritic ass joints decided to flair up real bad. So half my body was in pain while writing it. 2: I don’t think I write Jack well. I love him, I very much enjoy his character. His vocal pattern is so hard to write.  
> Also it's almost two am and I am VERY sleepy.

Foolish knew Jack Manifold. Not particularly well, sure, but well enough to pick up on some things. He was stubborn, for one. Which wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. Stubbornness could be useful when the time was right. It bred strong wills and stern beliefs. All of those things were very good in some situations.

There was more to it than just that, though. Under the stubbornness, just past it really, laid betrayal. Latent and festering, bubbling like lava. Lava that Foolish knew the man was very familiar with. He absolutely believed that he’d dragged himself out of hell out of spite! There was no doubt in his mind. Of course, the fact that the concept of  **_Undying_ ** was literally his entire thing made him notice when someone... came back.

Years ago, Foolish may have been mad at the man for cheating death. Now, though? He was kind of impressed! Besides, Jack was technically on unfinished business. Ghosts had popped into existence for less, so there wasn’t much reason to fuss. He  _ could _ die. That was all that mattered, honestly.

It was stupid, really. But Foolish saw his younger self in Jack Manifold, in a way. Blinded by power and anger and bloodthirst, unable to see much of anything else. The totem god was stupid when he was younger. When he was the god of Death he ruled unfairly harshly, striking down any mortal who dared oppose him. His excuse was that they’d all returned to oblivion eventually, caring not for the fact that there was a time for everyone.

Foolish wasn’t an idiot now, though. He knew that Jack was out for vengeance, out to spill the blood of Tommyinnit. Clarity would do him well. Rome wasn’t built in a day, though. You couldn’t change a person’s perspective in just one, either. Despite this: a day was a start. Perhaps this is why the god called Jack to his temple. 

“Hellooooo?” A voice called from around a corner,” Big guy- you in here? God this place is fuckin huge…” 

Foolish rolled his eyes softly, waving the smaller man over,” I’m outside the temple proper. I’m literally all of ten feet away.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that, I did.” Jack rounded the corner more properly this time, squaring off his shoulders to seem more intimidating. He mostly just looked dorky, but Foolish wasn’t gonna tell him that. “Right then!” he clapped his hands together,” What did ya’ call me here for, exactly? Like I appreciate you wanting to chat, but there’s gotta be at least a lil more than that.” 

Foolish sighed. Of course, there was more to it than just that. How was he meant to approach this kind of thing, though? It wasn’t just like he could actively say that Jack reminded him of himself as a shitty Death god, running around and killing people because he was mad at the world. One: that was rude. Two: that felt like something someone would say to their kid. Jack was  _ not _ his kid. Foolish Jr. was more than enough children for him, thank you very much.

“Follow me,” Foolish hummed at last, leading him to the center of the temple. 

It was properly done this time, and Jack couldn’t hijack it by moving anything one block. He sat down on a slight incline, gesturing for the other male to join him. After a moment of hesitation, he did.

“I don’t know how to do this in a way that isn’t… stupid. So what I’m going to do instead is, uh.” A breath,” Would you like to hear a story, Jack?”

“Well fuck, man, I didn’t expect you to drag me all this way for a story time.” 

“Just… trust me on this one.”

“Yeah yeah, alright.”

“A very,  _ very _ long time ago, in a place that existed long before this, the world was very, very new. In this world, there was a pantheon of gods that controlled the universe itself. They were powerful, all of them. Among these gods, there was the young God of Death,  _ Follis _ . Now this god was by no means bad at what he did, but he was a bit… over eager with his position. 

A mortal man came to the god’s temple, once, begging for safety. He’d lost his family in a mudslide and had nowhere else to go. So Follis took pity on him. He sheltered the man as long as he was able. 

They had one rule: to honor his family, the man was not to love another during his time in the temple. This went well for some time, the man was devout and thankful. Until one day, the man appeared to have courted another mortal woman in the domain of the god. 

Outraged, he struck him down right there and then. From the shock, the mortal woman’s heart gave out. She was there due to this weak heart, hoping the god could give her advice. Now… was Follis in the right to have struck the man down for going against his wishes, or was he out of turn?” 

“What?”

“Well…” Foolish hummed,” What do you think, is what I’m asking you. Do you think the man deserved the punishment?”

“Well yeah, no shit! He broke the rule!” 

“What if I told you he didn’t?”

“But you- you just told me he had!” Jack’s dual-toned eyes peeked out from under matching lenses, eyebrows knotting in confusion. 

“I told you that he  **_appeared_ ** to have courted the woman. What if he had simply been giving the woman directions? What if he was giving her something to offer the god, as she had nothing to do so. What then? Is the man still in the wrong?”

“I... no, I guess not. If the man didn’t actually get with the lady then he got killed unfairly, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

It grew silent for a moment. Foolish leaned back, waiting for the story to click. Of course, he’d changed the name. Follis was the root of Foolish. His true name was too important to give away like that, sorry Jack. The gears seemed to be turning in the man’s head, trying to understand what this meant. 

“I don’t get it.” He said at last.

Foolish laughed, shark teeth glinting in the dull light,” Yeah, fair enough. The moral of that story, more or less, is the importance of perspective. Something clouded by judgement may turn out to be something else completely.”

“Oh.” 

Jack's expression darkened. Which was, of course, exactly what Foolish had been expecting. He fully expected this to lead to shouting, anger. But… no. He just sat there, gazing down at the ground like he could burn holes into the sandstone with his eyes. His fists balled against his pants, knuckles white. More than aggressive, he looked lost in thought. 

“Are you- is the story ab-”

“I am, it is.” 

“Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated!! I had a lot of fun with this chapter!


	8. Glatt and Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foolish is a calm man. Sometimes, though, something can really get on his nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly: Glatt was hard for me to write. He's a character who's characterized by being drunk off his ass like... always. And that's maybe a little uncomfy for me, personally. So I went kinda light and safe with this request.

Foolish liked to consider himself to be a lot of those things. Virtuous was one of those things, at least to a certain extent. There were some things he’d bend his morals on, yeah, but relatively speaking: he was a good guy. He tried to be kind, you know? To treat people with respect, even if they weren’t respectful to him.

… Still. Sometimes he had a little bit of a short temper. He didn’t let it catch up to him very often! He really, really didn’t. Generally speaking, he was almost  _ never _ outwardly aggressive. And if he was, it wasn’t shouty! It was an even temper. The only time it wasn’t was if he was like… playing it for jokes or something. That was it, Foolish was a chill guy.

Sometimes, though, on occasion, something dug at him. This appeared to be one of those times! Now, he wasn’t bothered by ghostly voices. He’d talked to Ghostbur before! Ghostbur was plenty tolerable. That wasn’t the issue. The drink constantly in this ghost’s hand, however, was.

Glatt was… an interesting character, for sure. He’d never met the man while alive, but he’d certainly heard stories. A dictator, a menace, he’d organized a child’s execution! All round, the guy seemed like a bad dude! That wasn’t the issue, either, however.

What was the issue?

**The constant slurping sound.**

It was driving Foolish absolutely nuts! He didn’t know why Glatt was there, and he almost didn’t care. The ghost was nowhere near where he died, that was for sure. A giant temple in the middle of the desert was  **_not_ ** L’manburg. He hadn’t been paying much attention to anything Glatt was actually saying, which was maybe a little rude of him, but he was a little distracted.

Finally, eventually, he mumbled,” Do you mind?”

“Huh?”

“I’m kinda busy, the slurping makes it hard to concentrate.” 

This did nothing but make Glatt cackle. The ghost swooped around in front of Foolish, laughing and taunting him. Foolish took a deep breath. Okay, this was fine. He was fine! No anger here!

“Listen, big guy! I do what I want when I want, alright?” With a cheeky grin as a cherry on top, Glatt took a big drink,” I’m here to ask you some shit! You’re bein’ fuckin’  **_boring!_ ** I’m falling asleep watching this bullshit! I’m a ghost, I can’t even fuckin’ fall asleep!”

… Maybe the slurping was better than the alternative, actually. 

“Right. And what are the questions you have? Because I haven’t actually heard any questions, only you babbling nonsensically and drinking.” Foolish clenched and unclenched his fists. 

“You’re a fuckin’ god, yeah?” 

“Yep.” 

“Like a fuckin’... life god, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well! I’m a dead guy, yeah?” Glatt smirked a dangerous smirk,” Ya’ know anything about… resurrection?” 

Foolish froze in place, fists once again balling. He knew where this was going and he didn’t like it. Not for a moment, not for a second. There was no reason for him to trust Glatt. He  **_didn’t_ ** trust Glatt. Why would he? 

A breath,” And why would that matter to you?” 

“‘Cause I’ve got some unfinished business, see? You know how it is, yeah? Somethin’ left undone, some loose ends untied? And I’ve enlisted some help. But in case that shit backfires, which knowing the guy dealin’ with it, it probably will: I need a fuckin’ backup plan. And I heard about the literal damn  **_god_ ** on the server and was like. Hey! That’s a pretty good backup plan!”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?!” 

“I know what you’re capable of. Absolutely not. Find someone else to help you if you’re truly that desperate, but it won't be me.” 

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, lemme know! Comments are especially helpful but Kudos help too!!


	9. Foolish vs Overworking Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gods did not get sick. No. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is my first request from archive! thank you to getouttamyswamp for the request! I apologize for how long it took, I managed to burn myself out just a little kjfdghkjsh

Gods did not get sick. So he wasn’t, no way, Foolish was absolutely  **_not_ ** sick. And even if he  **_was,_ ** which he wasn’t, he was far too busy to care. There was lots of work to be done and no time for downtime! The mansion wouldn’t build itself and only he knew what he was doing. Maybe it was a little picky of him, but he didn’t like having other people build too much for him. There was room for mistakes that way.

He sighed, watching the sun dip under the horizon. It was beautiful, really, all of the sunsets in Snowchester were. It also meant a very rapid temperature drop, though. Part of him wished he could slip back into the interior to work on that. No, though, he’d checked on the roof just in case earlier and realized that he’d managed to completely swap an entire section of it. Which meant he needed to rework that entire thing. 

His breath had begun to come out in foggy puffs in front of his face. If he were more relaxed, maybe he’d imagine himself being a great dragon, blowing fire and smoke in front of him. Fire was never really his thing, though. And he was busy, so he shouldn’t be doing anything silly like that. Foolish sighed, looking back at the work at hand. The roof wouldn’t fix itself.

His hands were calloused and raw from the woodwork, he’d had to deal with more splinters than he could count. Of course, he wasn’t too bothered by it! He actually kinda liked the sensation of having rough hands. If he were a warrior, it would be a sign of strength and power. Even if Foolish was no fighter, it was nice getting the perspective of working so hard on something. 

Which reminded him. He really  **_did_ ** need to get back to working. So he did. Pulling things up and swapping them out in a rehearsed and calculated way. The motions almost blurred together sometimes. It was all very repetitive. That could be nice, sometimes, but it was… tedious, now. 

The cold really wasn’t helping, truth be told. His hands were numb, the parts of him that were more… shark-like were chapped and moving slower than they should have been. It was alright, though! Necessary in the long run, so he wasn’t bothered at all. Even if he was shivering and his thoughts were… slightly foggy. That was all alright, he was a busy bee with a lot to do! Ain’t no rest for the wicked, though!

Finally, he finished reworking the roof. His chest felt tight and he took care to double and triple check to make sure it was finished. No more mistakes, right? If there were any more mistakes he’d fix those too, obviously, but he couldn’t have managed to mess up anything else! He didn’t, no, he didn’t. And he made absolutely sure of it.

By the time he’d finished making 100% sure that there were no more flaws in the roofing, the sun was coming up again. It didn’t feel that long since it had gone down, really, but time flew when you were working, he supposed. Foolish had something to focus on and that was all that really mattered.

Now, though, came the issue of getting back down. Something had knocked into his scaffolding, it seemed, while he was on the roof, and it all came down. He sighed. Jumping wasn’t going to work from this height. It was too high up to risk. Maybe he could try for some water, though? He was relatively consistent with it.

…

Foolish woke up in a bed. He did not remember getting there. There was a cold compress on his forehead, he could tell that much. Who had… that was totally unnecessary! He wasn’t- he wasn’t sick and he didn’t need to be taken care of. The sound of gentle chatter filled his ears as he forced one emerald eye open.

Someone entered the room, short, hard to make out- his vision was blurred slightly. “OH HOLY SHIT YOU- you’re not dead! That’s good!” 

Yeah, okay, it was Tubbo. Foolish opened his other eye, biting back a curse as his head spun. He pushed himself up against the bed frame, looking around the room. Or, at least, he tried to, until the aforementioned cold compress fell over his eyes. He sighed, tilting his head forward and letting it fall on his lap. The room was… not his! A guest room, maybe? It wasn’t Tubbo’s, at least. 

“Ranbooooooo! Foolish is awake!!!!” Foolish scrunched his nose, jeez that kid could be loud. 

A few moments passed before the other teen rushed into the room, eyes wide. His expression was laced with worry, and it seemed like he had been running around for a while. Ranboo let out a soft puff of relief upon seeing Foolish, but concern still managed to outweigh it.

“You- you really should take it easy. Uh. I don’t know how high your temperature should run because you’re kinda a god, but Tubbo and I went out to check on things this morning and you were- you were passed out in the snow and you were  _ way _ more still than I’ve ever seen you and- I am! Rambling. So I’ll stop now.”

Foolish raised an eyebrow. Unconscious in the snow. No, no, that didn’t sound right at all! He couldn’t have been  _ unconscious _ , that was silly! Oh, who was he kidding? He probably was, they were probably right. For a moment, he opened his mouth to defend himself. There was really nothing to say, though, so he just shut back up without a word. 

“How… long had you been working, Foolish?” Ranboo asked after a very long moment of less-than-comfortable silence.

How long  **_had_ ** Foolish been working before that point? It… hadn’t been that long, right? He remembered the sun going down and rising again more than once, working and reworking sections until ichor covered his fingertips. How much time had passed since he stopped, when had he last taken more than a momentary break? 

Foolish looked around,” Not to take your shtick or anything but… I don’t remember?”

“WHAT?!” Shouted Tubbo, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Foolish…” Ranboo started, eyes trained on the ground,” That’s… really dangerous. You could ha- you  **_did_ ** get hurt!” 

He shrugged, wincing slightly at the unexpected rush of pain. The fall must have done a number on him, he usually didn’t react much at all to pain. “Eh, I’m kinda a god. Pushing beyond human limits is kinda… what I do.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t still have your limits! You c- you can’t push yourself that far. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have all the same weaknesses as a human, you can still… get hurt.” The half enderman was pacing slightly, his hands knotted together. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Foolish saw Tubbo place a hand on his forearm, stilling the nervous teen. It was sweet, those two were always sweet. That was part of why he agreed to build for them, to be honest.

“Look, look, if I like… agree to take it easy, will you calm down?” Foolish sighed, feeling slightly awkward,” I can like… work on room plans and stuff, nothing physical.”

“Or!” Tubbo interjected,” You could take time off! So you don’t pass out in the snow again.”

He groaned. There was that look in Tubbo’s eyes. The kid could be pretty stubborn given the chance and he could tell that there was just about nothing he could do to change his mind. Especially when he got that expression. Foolish tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fine, fine. If you insist. I’ll just go back to my summ-” this statement was cut off by him attempting to get out of the bed he was in, only to crumble uselessly to the floor. He let out a frustrated huff, grumbling,” Or maybe not.” 

“You can stay here until your health improves…” Ranboo offered tensely,” It won’t be too much trouble. Uh. I’m not always around but I can… clear some time to check up on stuff.”

To be honest: Foolish was not sure what to do here! He was thankful for the help, really, he was. But he didn’t want two stressed teens doting on him. It was embarrassing, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself! The help was appreciated, he figured they were just going by what other people had done for them in the past. 

“I can take care of myself, man. You focus on your own stuff. I’ll let myself get back into working order, but you two don’t have to wait on me hand and foot. You’re kids, I’m not gonna make you two take care of an adult, much less an  _ immortal _ adult.”

He refused to draw attention to how taken aback both boys seemed by this. He refused to draw attention to the way Tubbo looked genuinely confused. This place was unkind to the children, he knew this. They were just kids, he refused to put more on their plate. Besides, Foolish really was more than capable of handling himself. As long as he didn’t force it, he knew he’d recover quickly enough.

… Didn’t stop him from knowing they’d still worry. He’d cross that bridge when they got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Yeah! Uh. Accidentally implemented some big brother Foolish at the end there, but I like it and I'm sticking with it.  
> If you enjoyed this, Kudos and comments are both very appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated! And don't forget that Tumblr will see these fics first!


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